Thursday, August 27, 2015

Courtesy of Wilson Kilong, our
gracious tour guide for the day, we were able to take a day off to venture to
Sand River in the hopes of seeing a wildebeest crossing. The Talek crew piled
into our cruiser early in the morning having packed the left-over chicken
enchiladas that Joseph had treated us to the night prior, as well as some
banana chocolate chip pancakes that he surprised us with before we took off.
Eager and ready to hit the Mara roads, the day began.

Making our way from camp to the
border of Tanzania and Kenya, we were lucky as always to see the usual
suspects: zebras, giraffes, ostriches, gazelles, topi, and elephants. Avian
species were also plentiful (per usual here in the Mara, the birder in me has
never been so delighted) and we spotted some Lilac-breasted rollers, Marabou
storks, Secretarybirds, Tawny eagles, Striped kingfishers, and even a Bateleur eagle.

Marabou stork (Leptoptilos crumenifer) trotting along

After a while we
came to a cluster of safari vehicles, which I’ve come to learn, can usually
mean one thing: a big cat. This time, it was a cheetah. As the tourists flock,
and consistently to our surprise, rarely for fisi (Swahili for hyena), to crowd
around a sacked out big cat, I’m always wondering about the other African
animals, those that don’t receive this attention.

What about the creatures that the
common tourist doesn’t dream of seeing - like the wildebeest, as a prime
example? Perhaps most susceptible during times of the migration are the
wildebeest as they move in masses seeking more preferred grazing conditions. As
these odd-looking ruminants collect in abundance, it is the carnivores that
eagerly await their arrival upon their home plains in which to feast. Within my
two months here I’ve grown to appreciate the wildebeest, the gnu, for its
persistence and sheer beauty - always moving, a combination of unique
morphological features and behavioral quirks.

Common wildebeest (Connochaetes taurinus) amongst a few zebra

Distributed and originating wholly
on the African continent, the common wildebeest (Connochaetes taurinus) is one of seven species of the tribe
Alcelaphini. Of them, the wildebeest is the most nomadic and travels in seek of
open, available landscapes with the shortest grasses. Calling home to acacia
savannas, these large, high-shouldered antelopes with broad muzzles and
cow-like horns exhibit high social organization amongst their herds.
Territorial, they are abundant as mobile aggregations or dispersed as sedentary
herds. Their coloration varies from slate gray to dark brown and sport dark
vertical stripes of black hair along their bulky body. Reproductively, every
territorial male (bull) that an estrous female encounters will attempt to mount
her (and she may encounter dozens during a day of aggregate movement!). From
the moment they can stand, wildebeest calves accompany their mothers for
protection. That being said, the tan natal coat makes the light calf stick out
in a mass of black bodies quite conspicuously, and since outrunning a common
predator like a hyena is unlikely, a calf’s only refuge is losing itself in the
herd. With seemingly no concealment strategies, a newborn’s survival hinges on
older calves and herd members around to cover their highly visible blonde
bodies. Interestingly though, roughly 85% of the calves are birthed during a
3-week peak period, so the interval of vulnerability is highest during these times
for the neonates, a highly restricted birth season that further enhances the
wildebeest uniqueness. Fortunately for us in the Mara, witnessing their
following strategy and waking up to “seas of black” in our hyena territories
has taught us much of wildebeest form & function and we are grateful for
all that we continue to learn of another African organism.

A juvenile wildebeest nursing from his mother.

The day brought wildebeest sightings
galore. Fighting our way slowly through the numbers of black and brown bodies
and hearing their familiar grunting and quaking call that was often enjoyably
overwhelming and noisy throughout the day was unbelievable. Although we didn’t
see as intense a crossing as hoped for, we saw many passing full-throttle
through a bone-dry crossing and it was, in one word, incredible. Watching them travel from miles as far as the
eye can see in single-file lines that spanned the horizon - one by one making
their way as fast as they could to the other side was an incomparable
experience. Over the river and through the plains to Kenyan grasses they went.
Stopping for lunch along the Sand River and knowing that just across it was
Tanzania we were able to take in again just how breathtaking the African
landscapes are.

The longest game of follow-the-leader I've ever witnessed.

A sampling of the masses.

On our way home it seemed the day’s
heat got the best of us and we collectively decided to stop for a brief nap
beneath a generously shady tree. Catching whatever z’s I could, it didn’t take
long before we were on the track again heading back home. But first, Wilson
took a turn and brought us to this hill that overlooked the lands in a way that
I hadn’t yet experienced. Being at an elevation that high here and seeing
further than I have so far was indescribable. To top off the trip and our “beestly”
day, the gnu proved once again magnificent. Looking down upon them moving in
masses that appear as minuscule black dots slowly making their way across the
plain proved once again an unmatched sight.

An aggregate in motion.

The first of many game drives and
the continuation of an ineffable journey here in the Mara, our day with the
“beesties”, as Benson likes to call them, was just as magical as I’d
expected.

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